Page 31
“Not this one.” He shook his head and handed back her shades. “I’d love to visit one day. What’s Florida like?”
“Warm, sunny, and crammed with tourists.”
“Kinda like London is now.” Mark squinted into the cloudless blue sky. “Do you miss it?”
“I don’t, well, at least not yet. Still feels like a holiday.” She raked her hand through the thick grass. “Do you miss Ireland?”
“I do, yeah, sometimes. Late at night when I’m alone, or when it rains. I miss the smell of rainy days in Dublin. And I miss my family. When my older sister got married last year, she moved to Wales, so our mum’s on her own. I get back as often as I can.”
Alex smiled softly. “I bet Dublin’s beautiful.”
“It’s lovely, yeah. St. Stephen’s Green—the park in the city centre—that’s my favourite. I could people watch there all day, great for an actor…well, for anyone, really. Maybe one day I’ll show you around.”
She leaned forward, nodding like one of those bobbing dogs in the back of a car. “And I’ll take you to Disney World in Orlando…”
A few steps away, a toddler dropped his ice cream in the grass. He slipped, landing with a thud…a face-plant in the gooey pink mess. He wailed on contact, all distraught milky strawberry tears. His impatient parents snatched his sticky hand, dragging him away. A rambling Jack Russell caught wind of the sweet scent and followed in hot pursuit.
Mark and Alex looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“…Just don’t make me go on the rollercoasters,” said Alex. “I hate them.”
“How can you hate rollercoasters?” said Mark. “They’re thrilling, fast, a great excuse to scream like a girl…”
“Like a girl?”
“Shit. Now you know my secret.”
Alex giggled. “Well, if that’s the case, I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t offer to ride with you…and maybe—maybe—I’ll let you hold my hand for safety.”
“Deal,” said Mark with a wide grin.
Bruno Mars began to warble from Mark’s deck chair. Alex put on her sunglasses while Mark stretched, fishing his hand into his front jeans pocket. A scowl greeted the phone screen. He jabbed the glass, sending the call to voicemail. “I lost all track of time. It’s just gone four, so I really should head back. Sorry to break up our adventure. It’s been ace.”
Alex’s heart dipped. If only they could steal another hour or two. She twisted strands of hair around her finger. “You’re a wicked tour guide, Mark. Thank you. I’ve loved every minute.”
“Oh, before I forget…our photos are on here. How ’bout you type in your number so I can text them to you?” He slid his phone into her palm.
It was still warm from his thigh. Alex bit her lip.
And the screensaver? A photo of a muddy soccer team. “I didn’t know you were a soccer—sorry, football fan. What team’s this?”
“Mine. Well, my old one back in Ireland. I lived on the pitch. But as a jobbing actor, I can’t show up at auditions on crutches, or with a concussion. Sometimes you have to move on, you know?”
Alex sighed. “So true.”
She saved her digits as Bruno sang again, an incoming call from a ‘Julia’. Alex handed his phone back, but Mark ignored the caller.
“My family, the Manchester side, is football mad. My dad even named me after Sir Alex Ferguson, much to my mom’s annoyance.”
Mark threw his head back, laughing. “That’s fucking brilliant! Your dad’s a legend. I’m a lifelong Red, too.”
They both stood up, shaking off sandwich crumbs and the laziness of the afternoon.
“Can I give you a lift home?”
Alex swallowed the ‘yes’ that threatened to escape from her lips. She couldn’t take advantage of his kindness. “It’s kinda far, isn’t it? I don’t want to make you late.” She threw their trash into a bin. “I can find my way back. Part two of my adventure.”
“At least let me drop you somewhere. St. James’s Park station is close by.” He checked an app on his phone. “The Circle line will take you to Liverpool Road and the Overground to London Fields. Can’t have you wandering about…God knows who else you’ll corrupt.”
